“I suppose most gentlemen would, as it falls to your sex to protect mine from all the unpleasant things in life.” She batted her eyes at him in such a way that made Luca wonder if she mocked him, or perhaps the role of men as protectors of innocent maidens.
“I would not put it that way.” He folded his hands behind his back and studied her, uncertain enough of her temperament not to risk saying more on the subject of protecting female sensibilities. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to recommend other titles to me during my stay. As we have similar tastes, I can only hope you have discovered some works I have not yet found. Would you do me that very great favor, Miss Arlen?”
Those lively eyes of hers narrowed, and she briefly chewed her bottom lip before speaking with vivacity. “I would be happy to introduce you to my favorite library shelves, my lord.”
“Grazie. I will be in your debt.”
She tapped her fingers on the book she held, studying him as she spoke. “Excellent. I enjoy collecting on debts and favors.” Then her smile reappeared. “You must excuse me, sir. Lady Josephine is expecting me.”
“Of course.” He bowed more deeply. “It was a pleasure to speak with you again.”
She curtsied. “Until dinner, my lord.” Then she took her leave, glancing over her shoulder only once at the door. He noticed the curiosity in her eyes, somewhat at odds with the mischief in her smile.
Then she was gone.
Luca relaxed, but hastily reminded himself of where he was. Whom he represented. Luca drew himself up to his full height, then went back to the gardens and the duke. Every discussion he had with the powerful nobleman would benefit his people. He had promised his king, and himself, to represent their nation.
Winning over the ducal family was of great importance. If he bent his will to that end, Luca’s time in England would prove fruitful indeed.
Chapter Three
Distracting the Italian conte might not prove as difficult as Emma had originally thought, given the interest he showed in her reading habits. When she reported her conversation with him to Josephine, the duke’s daughter appeared delighted and agreed that Emma might easily keep the man too occupied for him to attempt a courtship.
In Josephine’s room once more, Emma held the sheet of paper with their list of planned activities. She sat at Josephine’s dressing table while her friend dressed for dinner with the aid of her maid.
That evening after dinner, Josephine, Emma, Isabelle, and Rosalind would each perform something musical. A simple way to pass an hour, then fill whatever remained of the time before midnight with conversation.
“Tomorrow, we tour the gardens in the afternoon.” Josephine held still while her maid tugged the hem of her gown into place, then smoothed out the silk overlay on the skirt. “Mr. Gardiner and Miss Sharpe will accompany us, to answer any questions the ambassador might have about our plants.”
Emma grinned as she made note of the betrothed couple coming with them on the conte’s copy of the itinerary. “If we get the two of them talking about flowers or bees, they will happily take hold of the conversation and never let it go again.”
“Precisely my hope.” Josephine approached the dressing table and shooed her friend off the chair before taking it herself, giving the maid access to Josephine’s hair.
Emma had already dressed for the evening, so she did not mind taking a seat at the foot of Josephine’s bed. “The next day, your father is going riding with the ambassador. It looks as though they are occupied most of the day. We sent the invitations for dinner that evening, which is all we have planned.”
Meeting Emma’s gaze in the mirror, Josephine widened her eyes theatrically. “That suits me. The Hepsworth sisters will do all they can to keep the count’s attention. You and I might have a brief respite from him.”
The memory of the conte’s arm going around Emma to steady her came to the forefront of her mind, as did the intensity of his eyes as they had spoken about her book. “I cannot think it particularly kind to leave him to those two.”
Josephine turned in her chair, causing the maid to squeal. “My lady, your pearl pins!”
“Pardon me, Liza.” Josephine turned back to the mirror. “But Miss Arlen startled me.” She gave Emma an accusatory glare in the mirror. “You cannot show him mercy, Emma. It will only encourage him.”
Though tempted to laugh, Emma pressed her lips together and went back to the itinerary. “On the following day, your father has guests arriving, and we are to walk with the conte to Lambsthorpe during the afternoon.”
“We shan’t escape him there.” Josephine giggled. “Oh, I do sound terrible, don’t I? I am sorry. I cannot like my father hinting so heavily that he wishes for me to take an interest in a man. As it is, we know my options are limited. But I should much prefer to have options. Perhaps marry someone in London next Season.”
“All finished, my lady.” Liza curtsied, then tidied up the dressing table.
“Thank you, Liza. It looks lovely.” Josephine stood and ran her gloved hand down the front of her gown. “What do you think, Emma?”
Emma pursed her lips, taking in the high neckline and overly fluffy sleeves of Josephine’s least favorite gown. “I think there is a reason you have not worn that dress since last autumn. It truly does not suit you.”
“I know.” Josephine grinned triumphantly. “I have no wish to appear to my best advantage.” She retrieved her fan from the mantel and snapped it open. “After the Lambsthorpe outing?”
Emma looked down at the paper again, shaking her head at her friend’s dramatics. “We have invited your father’s guests to the lake for the afternoon. The boathouse is prepared, along with all the fishing equipment. Your mother is the official hostess, of course.”
“Of course.” Josephine paced the room, wafting the air before her with her fan. “And then a quiet dinner that evening with only the occupants of the house in attendance.”
“Then we have nothing to worry over for a few days, given that your father will wish to discuss politics with all the men, and Sunday we have the wedding after services in the family chapel.”
“Miss Sharpe’s wedding to Mr. Gardiner.” Josephine’s pacing came to a halt, and her expression softened. “Theirs is a beautiful love story.”
The moment of wistful longing took them both, as Emma could not deny how she felt about what their two friends had found together. Yet Emma was as unlikely to marry for love as the duke’s daughters, given her place as ward, and her substantial inheritance.
Josephine collapsed into a chair with a sigh. “That is as far as we have planned, isn’t it?”
“Hm? Oh. Yes. That is all we have at present.” Emma easily found her smile and folded up the itinerary. “Shall I give it to the conte after dinner?”
“Do, please.” Josephine looked up at the clock above her mantel. “We have to go down soon.”
Emma rose from her place and held her hand out to Josephine. “Why not now? There is no use sitting here imagining the worst when we could simply get on with things.”
“Must you always be so wise? If you didn’t laugh and tease so much, I should think you a woman of fifty rather than twenty.” Josephine took Emma’s hand and allowed her friend to drag her upward.
“I am remarkably wise, and a great deal older than you are.”
“Ten months older,” Josephine said, playfully bumping her shoulder against Emma’s as they walked out of the bedroom into the corridor.
“Yes. But those ten months make all the difference.” Emma flipped open her fan ahead of her and put her nose in the air, making Josephine giggle.
Even when Emma came of age and obtained her inheritance, she could not imagine leaving Josephine. They were loyal friends and sisters by choice, though not by birth. After Josephine married, things would change. Emma would have fortune enough to live comfortably in a cottage for the rest of her days, if she wished. If her parents hadn’t been in that carriage accident, had lived to raise her in their home instea
d of the duke’s, no doubt they would find that a sorry ending for her.
The idea of settling somewhere in the country, alone, held little appeal. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up a busybody spinster in Bath, gossiping at the water pumps. Emma preferred the cities of England to the countryside. If the duke and duchess did not entertain at the castle as often as they did, things would be rather dull.
Few members of the British upper classes and nobility had reason to host parties and political gatherings as frequently as the duke. His position in Society and in Parliament kept him busier than anyone else in the kingdom. Once Emma left his household, her life would most assuredly turn quieter.
Unless she married someone of political or social significance.
Emma snorted, making Josephine turn to her.
“Is something wrong?”
“No. I was only thinking.” Emma waved her friend’s concern aside and tried to do the same for her thoughts. Few gentlemen looked twice in her direction, given they thought her position with the family one of employment. Which she preferred, if only to keep fortune-hunters at bay.
Josephine nodded somewhat distractedly and went back to her own thoughts.
Once Emma gained her independence, her time in the duke’s circles would dwindle. She would settle firmly in the middle classes and be lucky to marry a gentleman who leased a house in London every other Season.
They had come to the drawing room the family frequented before meals. When Josephine hesitated on the carpet, her eyes darting to the footmen waiting for her signal to open the door, Emma gently prodded her forward.
“Come on, Josie. Let’s see if the conte is the sort of man to arrive early, promptly, or last of all.” Then Emma gave the nod to the servants, and they immediately drew the doors open.
They entered the drawing room, and the conte with his secretary stood up the moment they saw the ladies.
“Early,” Josephine muttered from the corner of her mouth.
Emma smothered a smile as they curtsied to the Italians.
* * *
The first evening in the duke’s castle passed slowly and somewhat uncomfortably for Luca. Despite his work in politics, finding himself in a new place with new and unknown people always meant a period of adjustment. He had yet to properly determine the motivations of the people around him, or to understand the things which they held important and in esteem.
While his peers might think politics dull, Luca never tired of sharpening his mental acuity through discourse and debate. The trick was to engage in conversations, even with those who disagreed with him, in a way that made the topics interesting rather than inflammatory and lively rather than heated.
Before he could enjoy that aspect of his time in the duke’s castle, he had to understand the other players in the game of political hospitality.
Over dinner, he sat at the right hand of the duchess.
“You were in Spain before you came to England, were you not?” the duchess asked him, her sharp blue eyes taking his measure. “I have not visited the Continent in some time, but I still have friends in the Spanish court.”
That opened the first conversation, giving him insight into the duchess’s world. They discussed his acquaintances there, found several in common, and then the duchess confessed her love of architecture.
Luca brightened at that change in topic. Here was a chance to speak on something personal to the duchess. “Ah, yes. I understand that much of the castle’s current design is owed to your creativity, Your Grace. The outer structure is especially magnificent.”
Genuine delight touched her features. “The duke’s late father had drawn up the initial plans, but I was quite pleased when His Grace put the finalization of the design in my hands. Aside from my family, this castle is my greatest work.”
Some would deem her emphasis on family sentimental, but the warmth in her eyes as she looked down the table to her husband wasn’t something easily feigned.
Across the table from him sat the companion, Miss Arlen. She chose that moment to speak, one corner of her mouth turned upward. “I love the little touches other members of the family contributed over the years. For instance”—she gestured up to the ceiling—“His Grace is responsible for an entertaining tradition in this room, with the tiles above us.”
Luca politely turned his attention upward to the gold-painted ceiling, noting that someone had sculpted each tile into an intricate floral design. “They are fascinating, and quite beautiful. What is the tradition, Miss Arlen?”
“I am not permitted to say; it is something of a game with His Grace. There may soon come an evening that you learn of it.” She shared a knowing glance with the duchess. The higher-ranking woman returned the smile with an affection Luca could not help but notice.
The companion held favor with more of the family than Lady Josephine.
Lady Josephine sat quietly most of the evening at her father’s left hand. Signor Torlonia sat on her other side, and between Luca and his secretary sat a younger daughter of the household. Lady Isabelle. On the duke’s right hand sat his son, Lord Farleigh, the youngest daughter Lady Rosalind, then Miss Arlen. That made the table unbalanced, but Luca’s first evening meal was informal. At least by ducal standards. Which meant not requiring an additional male guest to even the numbers.
The family had an easiness about them, a kindness in the way they spoke to one another, that he hadn’t found common among the upper classes in England. It almost set him at ease. As a stranger, however, he maintained his reserve.
After the meal ended, the ladies left to prepare for the musical portion of the evening. The duke gestured for Luca to take the vacant chair on his left, where his eldest daughter had sat.
The men spoke of inconsequential things. The meal, the roads from London, and the wine they had enjoyed with dinner. Lord Farleigh, though younger than Luca, held himself with the same confidence his father possessed. As heir to the title, Lord Farleigh would be an important person to come to know, too. The duke represented the past and present of England and English sensibilities, but his son would carry England into the future one day.
“Do you ever tire of traveling, Lord Atella?” the young man asked during a lull in the conversation. “You and my mother were discussing Spain before. I have never visited that country.”
“It is a beautiful land, wherein many cultures have mixed to create cities of vibrance and color.” Luca had seen mosques and cathedrals with histories of being built and destroyed and rebuilt every time one force or another conquered Spain. “I grew up in the Kingdom of Naples, which then joined the Kingdom of Sicily after the wars ended.” He waved away the turbulent history of his people before anyone could remark upon that disturbing history. “All I ever wanted to do, as a boy and as I grew into adulthood, was travel outside of my land. When the opportunity finally came, I was fortunate that someone in His Majesty’s court knew of my desire.”
The duke sent his son a significant glance. “And that is the duty of those who regularly attend court functions. Know the people around you, their talents and desires, to fit them properly for service to king and country.”
They rose from the table shortly after that conversation; the duke led the way to the music room where the women in the family waited to perform. The governess for the younger girls was present, sitting in a chair near the instrument to help her charges turn pages. The younger daughters both played pieces written by Italian composers, a nod to Luca’s homeland.
They were quite proficient for girls of their age. The melodies were bright and cheerful. Then Miss Arlen went to the instrument, showing the skill befitting a young lady of her standing in the household, and finally Lady Josephine played a piece by an Austrian composer.
When the duke dismissed his youngest daughters for the evening, the rest of the party adjourned to a sitting room already lit with candles and lamps.
The evening passed in conversation regarding Luca’s travels, with the duke and duchess as the pri
mary audience. Lady Josephine and her companion said little, though Luca caught the eyes of the latter upon him. Measuring him, perhaps, for her mistress.
That evening, in the sitting room adjoining his bedroom, Luca sat at the writing desk at his disposal. He rehearsed all he had observed about the duke’s family. He made notes under each household member’s name in a little book he kept on his person. He had filled other pages with notes containing English idioms and phrases with which he was unfamiliar and notes about English sentiments regarding trade with his kingdom—and dozens of other things he needed to remember or learn.
At the top of one page, in his native tongue, he wrote: The Courtship of Lady Josephine. Then he tapped the desk’s surface and lifted his gaze from the paper to stare out the window into the night.
He had never courted anyone before. Despite his age.
At eight and twenty, he could look back in time and remember the girls and ladies he had met who stirred some interest in his mind if not his heart. But he had never acted on any of those fleeting moments of curiosity. His homeland had been volatile, his place within it uncertain, for too long.
His father and mother had sent him to a monastery when he was fifteen, when Napoleon had crowned himself king and his stepson the viceroy of Italy. Luca’s sisters had been sent to a nunnery, tucked away safely from the political strife his parents faced alone.
Their family had held important positions in the Duchy of Basilicata for over two hundred years, and the world at large had been uncertain what Napoleon would do with those who held high places in the governments he usurped.
Upon the darkness outside, Luca’s memory painted a scene from his youth, when his father had woken him in the darkest hours of the night.
“Sbrigati, figlio mio. You must away, quietly.” His father’s words guided him through their shadowed house in the country. “There will be a summons from the viceroy. You mustn’t be here when it comes.”
A Companion for the Count: A Regency Romance Page 3
